


change of pace

by icygrace



Category: Olympics RPF, Sports RPF, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 14:32:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1229977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icygrace/pseuds/icygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael’s furious when Bob casually tells him that it’s likely Ryan will train at NBAC after Worlds. Or why Michael might have gotten back in the testing pool.  </p><p>AU after sometime in 2013.</p>
            </blockquote>





	change of pace

**Author's Note:**

> Unrelated to anything else I’ve written. A quick write, enjoy!

_Spring 2013 – Baltimore, MD_

 

Michael’s furious when Bob casually tells him that it’s likely Ryan will train at NBAC after Worlds.

 

“You never thought it was a good idea before,” he says once his mouth’s caught up with his brain.

 

“Because you were here. I wasn’t kidding when I said I thought you’d kill each other if you ever seriously trained together. Just going way too hard at practice every day. But now – you’re happily retired –” He senses some sort of ironic emphasis in Bob’s words, but Bob will just tell him he’s imagining things if he says that. “There’s Yannick, there’s Conor, Allison will be back and so on. We’ve got an excellent training group going here.”

 

“Exactly. You sure you can give him all the attention his ego needs with everybody else h –?”

 

Bob scoffs. “The reason why this might work is that it’s more a change of location than coach. Gregg Troy’s made that very clear.”

 

“What he says and what –”

 

“They’re very much on the same page.”

 

“Must really suck down in Florida, he’s bleeding post-grads.”

 

“It’s different from Conor, don’t be catty.”

 

“God, Bob, I’m not a teenage girl.”

 

“Act like it,” Bob orders half-heartedly, like he can’t even be bothered. “Anyway, is Lochte going to be able to do Troy-style yardage forever? No. He can’t, pushing 30.”

 

“But why here? Why not like – California?”

 

“Berkeley?”

 

“I meant USC, actually, because it’s fame whore central –”

 

“Michael –”

 

“But yeah, I mean Cal would work, you know, with the free, and the 100 fly now and –”

 

“Oh, so you _have_ been paying attention to what’s happening with your former teammates?”

 

“You hear things. I mean, you know, Conor –”

 

Bob scoffs again.

 

“Anyway, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

 

“It isn’t a good idea or it isn’t an idea you like?”

 

He gives Bob an annoyed look. “Both.”

 

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t get to vet who is or isn’t allowed to train with NBAC anymore.”

 

“I own Meadowbrook, don’t I?” He’s almost tempted to stamp his foot.

 

Bob rolls his eyes and doesn’t even dignify his petulance with a response. “What are you going to do? Specifically ban Ryan Lochte from the premises?”

 

“Maybe.” He probably could; as he just pointed out, he does own the place. But that would force him to admit that he knows and cares – at least to a minimum degree – what Ryan’s up to these days.

 

Bob chuckles to himself. “Post signs with his face and an X through it so they don’t let him in?”

 

He stalks off, ignoring Bob’s knowing look.

 

Michael doesn’t want Ryan anywhere near him, not in his city, not at his _club_ , where –

 

But it’s not his club anymore, as Bob so graciously reminded him.

 

\---

 

_Spring 2012_

 

In the months leading up to London, Michael hates seeing Ryan’s stupid abs and stupid smirk and stupid blue eyes smoldering up at him (not slightly dazed or mischievous or sleepy or dancing with laughter like he’s used to, instead they’re fucking _smoldering_ like Ryan’s some kind of sex god) from the pages of way too many fucking magazines. But that doesn’t stop him from reading and re-reading the seemingly endless cocky remarks about how London will be _Ryan’s_ time.

 

How he, Michael, is toast.

 

The Ryan Michael knew has already gone up in smoke. Ryan the good teammate, Ryan the good friend, Ryan the epitome of sportsmanship, Ryan the gracious l –

 

 _Loser_.

 

It had been easy to love Ryan when he was always the one on top.

 

\---

 

Michael is never particularly gracious, but it isn’t something he’s ever really criticized for, mostly because he always wins, so people on the outside always assume that those who mumble about him – people like Clary or Cavic who come up short against him, as opposed to Ryan, who actually has beat him – are just jealous.

 

\---

 

_Summer 2011 – Shanghai, China_

 

Michael can’t bear to be touched after losing in Shanghai. He tries to hide the way he can’t stand Ryan’s victorious public smile, but he fails.

 

Well, he’s pretty sure most people don’t catch on, but Ryan knows him and the knowledge shows on his face the moment they’re alone. As much as the public smile rankled (unreasonably, he knows), Michael can’t stand the way it fades in private either, the way Ryan’s eyes dim because he lacks Ryan’s grace.

 

\---

 

It isn’t their only problem, of course.

 

The other is that Ryan hates secrets and lies and subterfuge. As uncomfortable as some of his family is his with his sexuality (his father, it’s not just the Lochtes’ divorce that’s caused a rift between father and son), he’s been honest about it with them. That’s all he wants: to be honest about what they are to each other – not to start blabbing all over the place, but for it to be clear to the people that count that those post-race embraces and joking and laughter are more than friendly.  

 

But somehow – Peter’s a miracle worker – Michael’s image is still mostly wholesome and he just can’t risk it. Not yet, not when it’s all ending so soon.

 

Ryan doesn’t say it in so many words, but Michael knows Ryan’s getting tired of waiting, tired of his gracelessness, tired of _him_.

 

\---

 

_December 31, 2011 – Las Vegas, NV_

 

“After London,” he offers as they wait for the clock to strike 12 in a raucous nightclub. He’s made up his mind. It’s earlier than he wanted, but Ryan’s been patient. He can give him that much, finally meet him in the middle. It won’t be that much longer now.  

 

“What after London?” Ryan slurs, cheeks red and eyes hazy, as he throws an arm around Michael’s shoulders, turning his head so their faces are millimeters apart.

 

“We go out. Come out, I mean.” Michael’s a little drunk, too, jovial, but nervous, and his tongue is thick in his mouth. He expects Ryan to smile or even kiss him, especially since the club erupts into cheers and champagne showers immediately after the words leave his mouth and there’s nobody looking at them.

Instead, Ryan pulls away, eyes suddenly sharp and clear in the dark as shouts of _Happy New Year!_ ring out around them.

 

Michael shakes his head at himself. It’s too serious a conversation to have in a loud, crowded club on New Year’s Eve. They can talk later.

 

\--

 

_Spring 2012 – Baltimore, MD_

 

But they don’t.

 

After New Year’s, they drift apart (one unanswered text too many) and by London, it’s too late.

 

Ryan’s face and Ryan’s words and Ryan’s silence make him angry – _angry angry angry_ ( _hurt hurt hurt_ )– and he focuses relentlessly on making London the greatest swan song of all time.

 

Somewhere along the way, though, once Trials are underway and he’s guaranteed his place on the team, he feels lighter, finds joy in it all, and even allows himself the thought that part of ending his career well should be making his peace with Ryan.

 

There’s Megan now, but Ryan was his friend before he was anything else.

 

\---

 

_Summer 2012 – London, UK_

 

Things don’t work out as planned. He performs poorly in the semis for the 400 IM, barely making the final and earning himself a spot in lane 8, far from Ryan. Unable to congratulate him when he won, unable to hide his disappointment in his own loss.

 

They swim the 400 free relay together, which stings for a different reason. Agnel overtakes Ryan on the last leg and the loss clearly shakes him, obviously feeling as though he’s let Cullen and Nathan and the guys who swam the prelims down. Michael tries to convey that they don’t blame him, jokes that now he’s got a medal in every color, but he doesn’t think his opinion means anything to Ryan anymore.

 

Clary wins the 200 back, with Ryan taking the bronze and following that up with silver in the 200 IM against Michael, who hasn’t got a choice but to run off for his next race. There’s none of their usual leaning up or down and over to talk to each other later on the podium.   

 

It’s only after the 800 free – their last race together, thankfully a gold, after which they’re all brimming over with emotion – that he thinks they might be able to make it all up.

 

But he’s wrong; he’s not even invited to Ryan’s birthday party (parties) and refuses to invite him to his retirement bash.

 

For some reason, Peter, who never liked how close Michael was to Ryan despite spinning a (mostly true) narrative about how they were such good friends, purses his lips at that. But he doesn’t say a word.

 

\---

 

_Spring 2013 – Baltimore, MD_

 

“So Ryan? Coming to NBAC? You could’ve said something,” Michael snaps at his new roommate that night, yanking open the candy drawer, snatching a Snickers bar and slamming the drawer shut.

 

Conor’s eyes widen and he throws up his hands. “I didn’t even know till Bob told me. Like today.”

 

Michael grunts and takes a vicious bite out of his chocolate.

 

“Really. But –” Conor eyes him warily. “I think it’d be good for him. Ryan’s a great guy. But he’s kind of . . . lost his way lately. He might get back on track here.”

 

“I thought the reason you came here was because you weren’t getting enough from Troy, because Troy’s all about Ryan.”

 

“I wasn’t . . . thrilled, but like you said, my problem was with Gregg. It wasn’t Ryan himself. Well, I mean, the show’s totally stupid, but whatever. Bob’s not Gregg and . . . Ryan’s not you, he’ll never be Bob’s golden boy, so I think it’ll work out OK.”

 

 _Ryan’s not you, he’ll never be Bob’s golden boy_.

 

Michael decides he’ll go down to Meadowbrook with Conor in the morning.


End file.
